The Lay of Canterlot High
A Vingol Maid There Was of Old...
She adjusted the strings of her lute, carefully twisting them into tune. Once she was satisfied, she began strumming it, sweet sad notes flying into the air. She filled the air with them, and then began to sing along;
A Vingol maid there was of old,
With Nimbus Belle her name;
Her hair was burnished brazen gold,
Her eyes of icy flame.
("I don't like this," Rainbow frowned. "Why'd they just kidnap Sunset like that?")
She dwelt in hilltop palace high
Looking o'er wooded dell,
Beneath the open cloudless sky,
Atop of caverns delved.
("You heard Principal Celestia," AJ retorted. "They didn't kidnap her, they asked for her help. What I wanna know is, why now, not when they first started hearin' 'bout her?")
She loved to pierce the shrouds of earth
And screens of leaf and branch
And secrets hidden by them learn
And wisdom find and catch.
("Do you really believe that?" Rainbow snorted. "Sunset disappears without telling us, she doesn't answer our calls or texts, Celestia tells us the government took her and we need to keep that secret, and you think she just went to help them?")
She loved not sword or string-cast dart
Nor cloak-encircled spy;
The thought of war sore grieved her heart
And flushed tears to her eyes.
("I believe," Rarity interjected. "that we are all worried, understandably so, and that snapping at each other will do no good.")
For war upon her borders pressed
In which her kin had died,
And from that grim sword-wielding test
She sought the rest to hide.
("Rarity's right," Fluttershy nodded. "Fighting amongst ourselves does no good, whether Sunset's safe or in danger. You and Applejack both have good points, Rainbow, but this one's more important.")
A Crystal Prince there lived as well,
Fair Arthur was he called,
The beloved of fair Nimbus Belle,
The gallant, brave, and tall.
("Sunset can take care of herself," Twilight tried to reassure them, biting her lip. "We need to make sure we can take care of ourselves, especially with regards to the Unmarked.")
His keep was stout and bright as gem,
A beacon of the North,
Though forced to leave it had been him
And march off into war.
("And the weird stuff that's going on in Cloudsdale," Rainbow added. "From what I've heard, things have gotten so bad they've closed the Spear Gate, basically locking the whole state down. We need to see if we can help them.")
He sat atop his strider strong
Amidst his armored knights
And rode swift south the war-road long
Before a spear-tipped tide.
("If we don't stop the Unmarked, we won't be able to help them," Twilight replied, wringing her hands. "We need our magic to help them, but we can't use it so long as the Unmarked are a threat. If we do, who knows what they'll do to us?")
He looked on foe with face stone-grim,
Their banners o'er the dell,
And cursed the war now driving him
Slay kin of Nimbus Belle.
("You're really worried about them, aren't you, darling?" Rarity asked softly. "I doubt any of us are particularly interested in seeing them rise to power, but you seem positively terrified at the idea.")
The riders clashed with ringing steel,
And many there were slain,
And in the night there came tidings;
Their dead had died in vain.
("I'm a major member of the magic community, and my family's well-off politically and economically," Twilight answered. "If their 'revolution against the oppression of the elite' manages to succeed, we'll be one of their biggest targets." She curled in on herself. "I don't want mom and dad to have to go through that," she whimpered. "I don't want them to have to go through the nightmare it sounds like Starlight has planned.")
But Prince Arthur was not there slain,
Struck down into the grime;
They saw him charge into the fray,
And plunge into the tide.
("Well, I don't want my home to have to go through the whole 'crazed magic-user' routine," Rainbow grumbled. "And I doubt Fluttershy does, either.")
But neither after was he seen
With the captives or quick,
The lonesome hint to where he be
His sword in the mud slick.
("Splitting up would probably not be the most effective," Rarity furrowed her brow. "but neither would allowing either threat to metastasize into something worse. I understand your fears about the Unmarked, Twilight, but could you imagine what a magically-empowered and magic-distressed individual could do given time?")
Now countless years have shed their sand
Into the glass of time;
The war is done and only stands
Within these bounds of rhyme.
("What do we do?" Fluttershy murmured, furrowing her brow. "If we ignore the Unmarked, they'll give us trouble, if we ignore Cloudsdale, it'll give us trouble, and we can't pay attention to both of them. What do we do?")
But from the west still comes no word
Nor do the four winds tell
Of fate that fell on Prince Arthur
And beloved Nimbus Belle.
(None of them had an answer.)
"But from the west still comes no word," Pinkie sadly repeated, stilling her lute. "nor do the four winds tell of fate that fell on Prince Arthur and beloved Nimbus Belle."
She looked down at the fingerless gloves she'd taken to wearing recently, not as a fashion statement but as an attempt to help mitigate a recent development in the Pinkie Sense. Gingerly peeling one of them off, she looked at the hand beneath.
And the clean hole through the center of it, large enough for a nail to go through, the flesh around it drained of blood.
All of her teachers and friends had simply waved the gloves (which she slipped back on) and the other measures she'd taken to counteract the phantom wounds as 'Pinkie being Pinkie.' And she understood, she wasn't almost the most sensical of people. But this time, she thought with a shiver, it felt different, like they shouldn't just treat it like Pinkie being Pinkie.
"What are you trying to tell me?" she whispered to her pierced hands. "Why are you here? And why do I get the feeling that ignoring you will turn out as bad as ignoring the Unmarked or Cloudsdale will?"
Once again, no answer came, neither from the west or the four winds.